Chapter 69:
Skyla handed two gleaming platinum credit cards to Harlee.
âGo wild shopping, Harlee.
And if these arenât enough, just let Brenton know and heâll sort it out for you!â
Pressing her lips tightly together, Harlee felt a mix of gratitude and discomfort as she took the cards from Skyla. It was hard to say no to such generosity.
âKeep an eye on her, will you?â Lonnie said to Brenton, his tone earnest.
Brenton nodded, his gaze shifting to Harlee, noting her distant demeanor.
He suspected she had endured some tough times with the Gill family, which might explain her reserved nature.
Skyla turned to Etta, presenting her with a card that boasted a spending cap of half a million dollars.
âThank you, Skyla!â Etta beamed, looping her arm through Skylaâs in a warm embrace.
Yet, her eyes couldnât help but dart toward the unlimited platinum card in Harleeâs grasp.
A card with a fifty-thousand-dollar limit was nothing compared to an unlimited credit card.
Before Harleeâs return, every time she went out, Skyla would give her the platinum credit card.
Ettaâs thoughts churned with discontent. She had been by Skylaâs side all these years, securing her deep affection and trust. Why did everything change just because Harlee came back? Harlee, in her eyes, hadnât done anything to deserve so much. Though Ettaâs heart seethed with envy, she masked it well, maintaining her facade of gentleness and understanding with a constant, serene smile.
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At this point, Brenton had pulled up in a sleek stretch Lincoln, and Etta hastened to secure the passenger seat beside him.
Her admiration was palpable. She couldnât resist extolling the carâs luxurious features, her fingers grazing every surface, her eyes wide with admiration and delight.
Ever since the Sanderson sons had left for college, their visits home had become infrequent. Now that Brenton and Fletcher were back, Etta felt it would only be wise for Harlee to seize the chance to charm them. Yet, Harlee maintained a puzzling distance, seemingly indifferent to their presence.
Etta inwardly scoffed at Harleeâs apparent disregard.
âEttaâ¦â Brenton frowned. Seemingly oblivious to the inappropriateness of her behaviors, Etta turned toward him, her expression a picture of feigned innocence.
âWhatâs wrong, Brenton?â Harlee, who had been silent, merely opened the car door and slid quietly into the back seat.
âNever mind,â Brenton eventually muttered, settling into the driverâs seat.
As they drove off, Etta filled the air with incessant chatter about recent family events, her hand firmly clasped around Brentonâs arm. To any onlooker, Etta and Brenton epitomized the quintessential image of dashing siblings, leisurely out for a drive, while Harlee stood quietly behind, seemingly forgotten.
Harleeâs gaze sharpened as she slid one hand into the deep pocket of her midnight-black trench coat, observing the two figures in front of her with a critical eye.
Her eyebrows drew together in a slight frown, a clear sign of her growing impatience. Today was crucial, and she had no time to spare on these unforeseen interruptions.
The three approached the polished entrance of the auction house, where Brenton, with a smooth motion, displayed his VIP card. The attendants, clad in crisp uniforms, gave a deep bow of respect.
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